GunBarrel Gauntlet: The Last Bronze II

07. "Just ask the Puppet."

                  Like flies on a carcass, the gang of motorcycles had picked up the scent of Audrey's exhaust on the dawn winds, loping out of the barrens to prey on the weak. Powering along the tracks, Carrion had kept them at bay so far, the shuddering timber and loose rock-fill of the tracks deterring the raiders from nipping at their heels.

The raiders however had the advantage of a rising sun that bled on the razor edge of the horizon, blinding Carrion on the driver's side of the cabin as she faced the desolate expanse thundering past them.

"They're gettin' real close now!" Tiny's voice buzzed in the console speaker.

Shifting her eyes from the windshield to the rear-view mirrors, their proximity to the escort sedan left her with a sobering impression as they began to flank the smaller vehicle.

"Stay with me Tiny! The tracks are the only thing keeping us ahead!"

Inside the Corolla, Liu was kneeling backward on the passenger seat, biting the headrest nervously as the electric drill of bike engines swarmed outside her door. Various improvised tools and scrap vibrated in the cavity left by the missing back seats as she looked down.

The clunk of a projectile striking the car panels made her yelp in panic, crawling over the headrest to sort through the objects and take up a chipped porcelain dish. Winding down the armour plate window to give her enough space, she flicked her forearm into the turbulence outside.

"That's my fine china!" Tiny roared.

From the passenger side of the truck Weary's torso appeared, taking aim at one of the bikers impinging on the Corolla. The biker's head whipped back, face frozen in death, skidding into a dust cloud as it fell away with its machine.

Another shot whined through the rear window of the Corolla, missing Tiny by inches as it scored the interior ceiling. Spotting the gunner that was riding 'two-up' on a shared saddle, Weary pulled back from his own door to avoid being hit as he reloaded, unlocking the hatch-top that had been wielded onto Audrey's roof. Briefly rising from this new position, he couched the rifle and watched the gunner and his driver twist off the double saddle and roll into the dirt after pulling the trigger.

Hungry for gasoline, the rest of the pack turned their steeds to peel back and scavenge what was in the tanks of their fallen comrades, magnified in the scope of the rifle as Weary's eye traced their retreat from the rail tracks.

Liu, observing the same behaviour from the vantage of the bullet-cracked rear window, shuddered with a cold emotion, almost feeling sorry for the fallen as the dirt-bikes swarmed to fight over the scraps of the dead.

* * *

In the noon heat of the wastelands Audrey and the Corolla had followed the old tracks for miles, the panorama featureless of any landmarks save the iron rails that cut through to the infinite blue haze. The repetition of the background was hypnotic, as though they weren't moving at all in a sea of sienna contrasts.

Shifting down gears as she became animate in response to some change in the landscape, Carrion applied the brake, rocking Weary out of his dreams.

"What's wrong?" He asked, leaning forward to view the scene outside the windshield.

"End of the line, cowboy." She motioned her bald head toward the missing segments of track in the distance. "We'll be going off road until we can find the Trans-Con."